


Lace me up (redux)

by Hatteress (goddammitstacey)



Series: Failwolf Friday Fics [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Failwolf Friday, M/M, corsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddammitstacey/pseuds/Hatteress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span>It's times like this Derek wishes he has facebook. This seems like the sort of shit that's supposed to be socially networked.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lace me up (redux)

**Author's Note:**

> It's times like this Derek wishes he has facebook. This seems like the sort of shit that's supposed to be socially networked.

"This ah- this isn't what it looks like," Stiles says.

Derek raises one eyebrow very, very deliberately.

"I mean, it is," Stiles says, flailing an arm down at himself. "Obviously, I just- ah-"

Erica sighs, like the universe lives to torture her. The harsh yank she gives the laces in her hands speaks of a tendency to pay that particular sentiment forward. Stiles yelps and staggers a little.

"He's helping me with my prom dress," Erica says, rolling her eyes as Stiles grumbles and plucks at the edge of the bodice. Because _that's_ a thing.  Derek can't help the way his eyes trace over the edge of the material where it's digging into Stiles' chest.

"Exactly," Stiles squeaks, hands flying down to grasp the back of the couch. Logically, Derek knows the stance is so Stiles can brace himself against Erica's rough handling. It doesn't stop him picturing Stiles bracing for another reason all together. _Shit_. "Helping. I'm helping."

He's also blushing, the soft flush of it spreading up over his naked shoulders and neck in a way that shouldn't be nearly as distracting as it is.

Derek has to try twice to make his throat work. "Red isn't really your colour."

It's a lie. A total lie. Because Stiles' skin is pale and smooth and dotted haphazardly with moles that shouldn't make Derek want to lick nearly as badly as he does, _fuck_. All that contrasted with the red sheen of the satin and dark, blood-coloured laces is making Derek's pulse spike with something a little too primal to be shrugged off as simple aesthetic appreciation.

Derek doesn't even realise Erica's smirking at him until she yanks on the laces again, making Stiles jerk and swear.

_Fuck_. "Don't break any ribs," Derek says, heading for the stairs. Air. He needs all the air right now.

You'd think he was the one in the corset.


End file.
